


Entrance Me with Your Magic Words

by ellacj



Series: 52 Weeks of Swan Queen [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fluff, Language Barrier, this is so insanely fluffy, to make up for last week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellacj/pseuds/ellacj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Good words are worth much, and cost little."</p><p>-George Herbert</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entrance Me with Your Magic Words

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to translate everything or make you guys everything, so any dialogue in italics is them speaking French.

The sound of backpacks hitting the floor with a dull _thunk_ represents the last period of the first day of school quite perfectly, Emma thinks.

The excitement of the first day back has worn off by now, replaced by the exhaustion that comes with readjusting to the schedule of school. Fortunately, today is Emma’s last first day of school, and it’s that thought that has her still awake right now. Her fingers drum on her desk with her head resting heavily on her other arm to prevent sleep from taking over. The last thing she needs is for Madame Nolan to shove that stick even further up her own ass and give Emma a detention on the first day. Mary Margaret would _actually_ murder her if that happened.

Madame Nolan begins the class, and Emma zones out immediately. Honestly, after four years of French with her, she knows the rules. Don’t talk, don’t chew gum, don’t call, text, or tweet, have a notebook, have a pen, et cetera. Have this, don’t do that, rules, rules, rules. Rules that won’t be enforced after the first two weeks of the year except in Madame Nolan’s class because she’s the most anal retentive person Emma’s ever met.

The door opens and Emma glances up, surprised. No one is ever late to Madame’s class; especially not on the first day. Whoever it is is _dead_. It’s a girl Emma doesn’t recognize. Her long dark hair is swept up into a high ponytail to reveal a face with dramatic bone structure and soft brown eyes. Her sharp cheekbones flush pink as she approaches Madame. “ _I’m sorry I’m late_ ,” she murmurs in French, her voice gentle and almost musical. “ _I have a note_.”

Madame scans the paper the girl hands her, nodding thoughtfully. “ _This is Regina_ ,” she announces to the class. “ _She’s new to the school, so please help to welcome her._ ” Turning to Regina, she gestures to the back of the class where Emma’s sitting. “ _There’s a chair for you there. Welcome to Storybrooke._ ”

Regina ducks her head, letting her ponytail fall over her shoulder and partially curtain her face as she walks through the aisle and settles in the seat to Emma’s right, setting her backpack down gently enough to avoid the _thunk_ before pulling out a sleek leather folder and a black pen. Emma raises her eyebrows; this girl is a professional or some shit.

“Hey,” she whispers around Madame’s French babbling. “I’m Emma.”

Regina turns to her with a soft smile. She nods once, then turns back to the front.

Emma frowns. Is Regina ignoring her or something? She glances to her right again, catching sight of the pen moving across the page at a furious rate. Of course; she’s new here. She must just want to pay attention to Madame’s rules. She sighs. Hopefully the girl will warm up more in the coming weeks. With Ruby having dropped out of French this year, she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive the class without a friend to fuck off with.

Class ends more quickly than expected, and Emma snatches her backpack from the floor and is about to head for the door before stopping short. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says to Regina, who’s still sitting, packing up her stuff.

Regina glances up, gives her the same smile and nod as before, and turns back to putting her things away.

Emma furrows her brow, turning to leave. What is Regina’s deal? They’ve known each other for less than an hour; does the other girl already dislike her? That’s gotta be some kind of record. She fishes in her backpack for her keys, barely noticing Regina brushing past her seemingly in a hurry to get somewhere. When Emma finally steps out into the warm sunshine to go to her car, she sees Regina getting into the passenger side of a Mercedes-Benz, speaking animatedly (though she’s too far away to know what she’s saying) to a man Emma assumes is her father.

 _So it’s not just that she’s a brief person_ , Emma sulks. Sighing, she climbs into her beloved yellow bug and shuts the door, a plan already formulating in her head.

 

The next day goes pretty much the same. Emma greets Regina as she walks into class and receives that same gentle smile and brief nod before the girl turns her attention back to whatever she’s doing. She sits down in her chair and tries not to let the sting of the reaction show, consciously avoiding trying to figure out exactly _why_ she’s so upset that Regina won’t talk to her. So what if she doesn’t want to be friends? It’s not going to make her life any worse.

“How are you liking Storybrooke?” she asks when there’s a break in Madame’s lesson.

Regina glances up at her, smiles and nods, and ducks her head once again to scribble furiously in her notepad. With her arm blocking Emma’s view of the paper, Emma’s left to only wonder about what she could be writing while Madame isn’t saying anything.

After class, Regina takes a minute to pack up again, and Emma departs quickly with a muttered “see you later” tossed over her shoulder. She doesn’t watch to see Regina’s reaction, mainly because she already knows what that smile and nod looks like. She stops at her locker to drop her precalc textbook before going out to the parking lot, and stops short when she sees Regina sitting on the steps of the school, brow furrowed in anger and typing furiously on her phone. Her father’s Mercedes is nowhere to be seen.

“Hey,” Emma says gently, offering a smile. “Want a ride?” She holds up her keys and shakes them a bit so they make a jingling noise.

Regina glances from the keys to Emma’s face then back again before shaking her head. “No,” she says softly, and it’s the first time Emma’s heard her speak outside that first day and the verbal exercises Madame has the class perform. “Thank you.” The words sound forced, and she says them slowly, as though the taste of them is foreign in her mouth.

Emma’s about to ask if she’s sure when the black Mercedes approaches the corner and slows to a stop, and Regina pockets her phone and goes to the car with a smile and a little wave over her shoulder.

“Bye,” Emma grumbles. And once again, she gets into her car and drives back to Mary Margaret’s house alone.

 

“Wait, who’s this girl again?” Mary Margaret interrupts her, sipping her cocoa gently as Emma tells her story. Yes, Mary Margaret adopted her almost four years ago and yes, she’s legally Emma’s mother, Emma can’t quite bring herself to call her ‘mom’. Mary Margaret’s always been more like an older sister to her, really.

“It’s this new girl who sits by me in French. Her name’s Regina.”

“And she won’t speak to you at all?”

“Not until yesterday,” Emma says, tugging at a loose thread on her jeans. “And that was only three words when I offered her a ride home. ‘No thank you’.”

Mary Margaret tilts her head thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like she hates you, from what you’ve said. Maybe she’s just shy.”

Emma grunts, yanking the thread out to nearly triple its original length, yet it still won’t detach from the pants. “Not likely. She raises her hand pretty much every time Madame asks a question and answers in literally the most perfect French ever. I don’t know why she’s even taking the class anymore if she’s so good already.”

“Just give her a chance, Emma. I’m sure she’ll warm up eventually.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

“ _We’ve been in session for a week now,_ ” Madame Nolan says to begin class on Friday. “ _I think it’s about time you got to know the people next to you. For two minutes, have a discussion in French to learn more about each other._ ”

Emma turns to Regina, waiting patiently for her to close her leather-bound notebook and meet her eyes. “ _Hello_ ,” she says to start off. “ _My name is Emma_.”

“ _I’m Regina_.”

Green eyes go wide in shock; she was expecting the girl to ignore her again. Honestly, she hadn’t planned what to say if Regina actually responded. “ _Why don’t you ever talk to me?_ ”

Regina’s cheeks flush, and she ducks her head to let her dark curls hide her face. “ _I don’t know what you’re talking about_.”

“ _Yes you do. I always try to be nice and talk to you and you don’t say anything. Why_?”

“ _I-_ ”

“ _Time is over_ ,” Madame announces, to Emma’s endless frustration. She was _this close_ to finally getting her answer, only to have the chance ripped away again. The class goes on with no opportunities to ask Regina again, and Emma busies herself with doodling on her paper while the scratch of Regina’s pen on the fancy paper combined with Madame’s drawling voice provides soothing white noise.

The bell ending class surprises her, but she stills ends up packing her things and leaving the room before Regina does, their earlier conversation momentarily forgotten in her haze of Friday euphoria.

“Emma!” a soft voice calls across the parking lot, and Emma stops and turns to see Regina running after her, out of breath as she stops in front of her.

“Hey,” Emma says. “You wanna finally give me an answer?”

“ _I’m not ignoring you intentionally_ ,” Regina says in that singsong way that she does when she speaks French. “ _I was embarrassed._ ”

“ _Why_?” Emma asks, not knowing why they’re speaking French but going along with it regardless.

“ _I’ve moved to Storybrooke from Spain. I don’t speak any English except for very simple things._ ”

A wave of relief crashes down over Emma. Regina’s not trying to avoid talking to her – she _can’t_ talk to her. Then she grins. “ _You don’t speak English, and I don’t speak Spanish_ ,” she says calmly. “ _But we both speak French._ ”

Regina smiles. “ _Yes, we do_.”

“ _That means we can talk and be friends, correct_?”

“ _I would like that very much_.”

 

After the first week of school, Emma starts actually paying attention in French – she wants to be able to talk to Regina as much as possible. She tried learning some Spanish, but having three languages crammed into her mind was starting to make her head hurt so she gave up quickly. It’s no wonder Regina hasn’t picked up too much English yet.

The first time Regina comes over Mary Margaret’s embarrassed because she doesn’t speak a word of French. Emma and Regina hide out in Emma’s bedroom the whole time, giggling about whatever it is high school girls giggle about and reveling in the glory of their newfound friendship. That day is the day they kiss for the first time, in a language spoken by the entire world; lips moving in time with each other, performing a dance that in and of itself is timeless. Mary Margaret greets them with a smile and hot cocoa when they get downstairs, completely oblivious to the beauty that has blossomed in the loft of her apartment.

“She seems nice,” she tells Emma once Regina leaves. “Of course, I wouldn’t really know, now would I?”

“She’s really nice,” Emma confirms with a half-dazed smile. _And very talented,_ she adds in her head. Yeah, Regina’s definitely a keeper.

 

And keep her she does, for six months in a row of coffee, ice cream, and stolen kisses in crowded hallways. Of course Emma’s not measuring in months. She’s measuring in love. Over the course of their relationship, her love for Regna grows stronger and stronger with each passing second. Not to mention she’s quickly becoming Madame’s star student.

It’s prom season, and Madame has decided that for a fun lesson, she’ll teach everyone how to ask someone in French. “Repeat after me,” she instructs. “ _Will you go to prom with me?_ ” The class repeats in a bored monotone, and Madame sighed and clucks her tongue. “Will someone please try it for the whole class?”

Emma’s hand is up before she can even finish the sentence, and she grins and stands up when she’s called on. “ _Will you go to prom with me_?” she recites perfectly. Then she turns to her right, where Regina is still scribbling in her notebook – journals, she told Emma a while back, to send to her mother back home in Spain. “Regina?”

The class is silent for a moment, then Regina glances up and breaks into a smile. “ _Yes_.”

There’s a chorus of “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww”s as Regina gently kisses Emma’s cheek, both of them smiling widely. Class seems to fly by after that, and before she knows it they’re walking to Emma’s car so she can drive Regina home. “ _I’m really excited for prom_ ,” she says, bumping against her girlfriend’s shoulder as they cross the parking lot in the chilly spring breeze.

“ _Me too_.” Regina grins. They get into the bug, and before Emma can put it into drive Regina leans over and captures her lips in a kiss. It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s everything Emma’s wanted since she was just an orphan sitting alone in another new home. She’s come a long way since then, and she’s so glad that Regina was more than just a stop on her never-ending journey.

“ _Te amo_ ,” Emma whispers against her lips. She googled it a few nights ago, because this phrase is special. Regina deserves to hear it in her own language. She pulls back from the kiss to see the other girl’s reaction, meeting a wide brown gaze with a nervous smile. And then Regina opens her mouth and the most beautiful words tumble out spoken in a soft, musical accent that makes Emma’s knees melt.

“I love you too.”


End file.
